


The Right Kind of Idiot

by lionbeastBay



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Real mundane stuff but it's cute, hell yeah bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionbeastBay/pseuds/lionbeastBay
Summary: Starting with a heart-to-heart after the longest day in their lives (and Galo doing most of the talking), Galo and Lio part ways for the night -- with the help of Aina enforcing bedtime. However, Lio's day isn't over yet. Aina has another motive and people she wants to see. She'll even let him drive~It doesn't matter if it's awkward--for Galo and Lio. For Aina and Lio's Lieutenants. For everyone wrapped up in the struggle to coexist and work together peacefully. There's always bound to be growing pains, but through one night into the next.. they're sure trying.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Somehow, they’d made it through the day’s worth of sweat and rubble–past the rest of the Burning Rescue squad and their shifting, sidelong glances. None of them said a word; yet, even if Lio had saved the world just as equally as Galo, the sight of the Mad Burnish leader walking amongst them was something few of them had the time to fully adjust to. Galo, on the other hand, was still marching with the energy of someone who really _hadn’t_ just saved Earth (among other things). He all but had Lio by the hand, leading them with purpose and away from the small party of sweaty firemen. Somewhere to talk, maybe. Or maybe just somewhere quiet.

Frankly, Lio wasn’t sure what Galo was playing at, but it was hard to argue with the fiery aura of a man on a mission. So, he didn’t. Not this time. In truth, he was thankful that Galo had the sense not to drag him right into the jaws of another swarm of people who may or may not still hold a grudge against him. Against them. His people and what they’d done. Still, taking a seat on an empty bunk, Lio all but fell against the covers–a soft thump which brought a grin to Galo’s face–as the weight of all that happened rushed back to greet him. At least they were alone now.

“Aww, what’s the matter, can’t handle a hard day’s work?” Galo teased, propping himself near the tired, pale mass that he’d _like_ to call an ally. Never did get his shirt back, huh? Guess that made two of them. He propped his chin against his knuckles, watching with rapt, mischievous intent.

Lio sighed; it was all he could do, really, slowly rising back onto his elbows to better give his companion an unamused furrow of eyebrows. Lips parted, ready to return Galo’s quip. To say something. Yet, his ambition faded as their eyes met, any hope of recovery lost in a snort. Galo really was always this way, wasn’t he? Whatever. If only for the night, Lio was resigned to his fate, struck silent by the friendly banter of a passionate mad man.

Galo cocked his head to the side, a wide grin still splitting his features. Cat got your tongue, Lio? “We–I really appreciate your help, though. It’s a little unorthodox having _the_ Mad Burnish around, but I don’t think that’s ever stopped either of us.”

“Clearly not.” Lio rolled his eyes, not at all flinching when Galo clumsily prodded his arm with a fist. He sat up. He sat up, elbowing Galo in the ribs in the process. Gently. Probably deserved worse, but they _were_ allies now, weren’t they?

“Though, you know, we make a pretty good team.” Ow, but Galo saw an opportunity and he wasn’t about to waste it _,_ gesturing widely as he hovered–hooked, really–an arm around Lio. Not quite touching. Yet. And there was no escape past the wall of emphatic muscle that was Galo’s shirtless physique. Trapped as he was, Lio was forced to listen while even more unfortunate words tumbled from Galo’s mouth. “–and I’ve never had a best friend.”

No chance for rebuttal, not a word in edgewise. Galo wouldn’t let him.

“Don’t get me wrong!” Galo continued, looking fondly over his shoulder for only a moment. Now he was touching. _They_ were touching… _they_ needed a shower, but he wasn’t going to let that deter him. “Burning Rescue is like family to me, and I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world. But…”

“We’ve known each other for three days,” Lio interjected, unsuccessfully batting away the anchor holding him in place. He didn’t even care that his estimate wasn’t completely right. Trivial things like facts and semantics were irrelevant. They weren’t his point, and he was… touched? Flattered. Really. Lio was _surprised_ , most of all, how this man could change gears so rapidly from having him thrown in prison to singing his praises.

“So? We share a bond!” A firm nod. He didn’t notice the discrepancy, wouldn’t care if he had. “You can’t deny that. I saved your life, and you… you probably saved mine with your little rampage through the city. Kray had me in a cell.”

He even _kissed_ you! Sure, it was to save your life–actually, that’s all it was, really. Still! A bond. There was nothing Galo was surer of in his life, even with his friend’s mild protest. Even if Lio couldn’t, wouldn’t admit it out loud (and he _knew_ Lio felt the same way). You didn’t just save the world with someone and walk away from that without feeling _something._ They were a team now, whether Lio or the World liked it or not.

“Fine,” Lio relented after a long, thoughtful pause. He’d give the man an inch. Maybe it would backfire spectacularly. Maybe he needed to get back to the others. Back to Gueira and Meis who were surely waiting for him, but truthfully? Lio wasn’t sure he could have just walked away from this stupid, idiot of a man, even if he’d really wanted to. Not permanently. He didn’t have to say it. He wasn’t going to say it; Galo was right about that much, and elated by the simple, one word reply.

“And–forget about me!” Somehow, there was still something to argue. “Who’s going to fight for the Burnish if not the two of us? The Promare might be gone now, but…”

They were still Lio’s people. A culture in itself, even without the power of flame. They still needed help and understanding from the world at large. They needed leadership from the best person Galo could think of, and that person was sitting right next to him, albeit shirtless and exhausted. His expression softened, arm falling to Lio’s waist as silence filled in for the words left unsaid. The atmosphere calmed, and for one somber moment they could almost hear the rest of the team celebrating a rest well-earned. Heh…

“Thank you, by the way,” Galo added earnestly, gaze focused ahead of them. Drawing in a deep breath, it faltered at Lio’s response, skimming over the top of another bunk. _‘For what?_ ‘ Faint in the dim room, Galo’s smile was a flickering candle compared the inferno of manic energy Lio knew him for. Yet, he was drawn to it all the same.

“Well… you know some people would say I take more pride in being an idiot than anyone else they know, and I think you’d agree,” He shook his head. sweeping through tousled blue locks with a free hand. Maybe he deserved that, too, and Lio certainly wasn’t disagreeing. “But I’ve never wanted to be the wrong kind of idiot. Before we met, I used to think a lot’ve things about the Burnish, especially you guys. I thought I had it all figured out.”

He was wrong. Painfully wrong. He used to think a lot of things about how the Mad Burnish were a bunch of no-good punks giving the rest of them a bad name. Maybe, Maybe on a surface level that was right, but Galo understood now. Hell, he was sitting right next to their leader–the man he saw taking care of those the rest of humanity wanted to forget. Lio was a good person. Really didn’t need Galo to tell him that, but it couldn’t hurt, right?

“So, I wanted to thank you for knocking some sense into me–and I wanna make it up to you! To all of the Burnish Kray wronged. It’s not going to be easy, but if you can stand my face a little longer, we can do anything.” Serious moment over, Galo clapped Lio’s shoulder and finally freed him. And not a moment too soon, his companion’s eyes appraising as he distanced himself from the large, stupid–sincere himbo. Was that all? He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Never did with this man.

“Idiot.” Lio crossed his legs. Though, Galo was _his_ idiot now. To his eternal chagrin, it was what it was. One more to add to his flock of misfits and nobodies, and maybe it really was for the best. “–you’re welcome.”

As their conversation dwindled again, Galo stretched, something of the usual search & rescue soreness finally setting in. Heh, maybe they’d overdone it a little, but that was all part of the job, right? If it were up to Galo, he’d probably still be out there digging through remnants and rubble, searching. Rescuing. But even superheroes had to tag out sometimes, as their replacements for the night firmly insisted. Damn sure Galo would be up and ready come first light, though. He cast a sidelong glance at Lio, who’d busied himself with taking stock of his scuffs and bruises now that there wasn’t a giant invading his space.

They’d be fine. Yeah. Best Friend Numero Uno might not have healing powers anymore–or powers at all, but he hadn’t always, right? It would take some adjusting for him, for all of the Burnish, but Galo believed in them. Yet, just as Galo readied another burst of positivity, there was a knock at the door, well, door frame. One that didn’t wait for confirmation before sliding into the room with the calculated nonchalance of someone who knew they might be interrupting but didn’t want to make it awkward.

“Hey,” Aina waved, keeping a friendly distance from them both. If not to be polite, then because one or more of them was a little _smelly._ Nothing Aina was unused to, but it was the principle of the matter. “I thought I’d check in to make sure you two weren’t at each other’s throats.”

“Aina!” Galo chirped, shuffling all previous notion of conversation topics aside to glance between his two friends in quick succession. Boy, was he grinning again. “Y’know, I don’t think you two were properly introduced.”

He clapped, and if Lio wasn’t already paying attention, then he was now very suddenly. Brought into the harsh reality that they had company again. Still, for what it was worth, he liked this particular teammate well-enough. From what he knew, she had a decent head on her shoulders, even though _she_ was the one who dumped them out onto a frozen lake in the middle of nowhere. Still, Galo had done worse, and look where _they_ were. So, he’d forgive her.

“Lio Fotia, meet Aina.” Galo gestured. “She’s my partner in–” Well, it wasn’t crime, and it wasn’t really _justice_ , either. Quick, Galo, think of something; you’re embarrassing yourself (and Aina). “–rescue. You probably know this already, but she’s the one who pilots the jet. _And_ –”

“I’m the one stuck making sure this idiot doesn’t get himself into too much trouble.” Though Aina shook her head, she was smiling. For all the headache that hothead caused, she didn’t have it in her to stay more than playfully mad at him for too long. He knew that, she knew that. Lio would probably figure it out eventually. She nodded to him, “–and you’re Lio, right? I hope you’re prepared for what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He wasn’t. How could he be? Still, Lio scoffed as if he wasn’t completely blindsided by Galo’s entire existence, “I can handle myself just fine. Although, it’s nice to know there’s _someone_ with common sense in this organization.”

“Aina.” He extended an arm, feeling the boring gaze of Galo watching as his two good friends, new and old, shook hands. Pleased, Excited. It would’ve been more than a little awkward if they _didn’t_ get along. Yet, Lio tried not to pay his starry-eyed companion much mind. After all, he had plenty of him to look forward to minding later.. possibly for a while. Longer than he could have ever anticipated.

“Lio,” she parroted, a trickle of laughter following as she retracted her hand again. “I’m flattered, but if you stick around long enough, you’ll find that most of us do. Let’s just pray that Galo’s persistence doesn’t cause a mutiny in your ranks.”

It wasn’t going to be easy for either side, but from what she’d seen so far? There were a lot of good folk in the world, and if Galo believed so fiercely in Lio and the rest of the Burnish–especially the Mad ones–then it was hard not to believe in them, too. It wasn’t like she’d hated them before; this was only the next step in the long trail to recovery.

“Hey! I saved their leader, they should thank me,” Galo protested. It wasn’t always as simple as that–he knew that–but he’d been talked over long enough. He had to say _something,_ even if that something was punctuated by a long pause… followed eventually by soft, incredulous laughter. They wouldn’t argue, though it was tempting. Aina shifted her weight from one side to another.

“Right,” she tempered, motioning with one arm crossed against her chest. “Well, mister savior, if that’s true, then maybe it’s time you turned down for the night. I can’t speak for Lio, but I know Gueira and Meis would like to have him back sooner than later.”

And she knew exactly how long the ride was from here to there. It was long. They were waiting, but somehow this dork still had the energy to pout. She’d never know where he stored all of it, but maybe that was _his_ superpower? No flames, no super human strength–just an endless supply of pure chaotic energy. So, hopefully, Lio’s lieutenants weren’t too impatient–else she’d never hear the end of it.

_She even knew their names._ Perhaps by itself that wasn’t very unusual–although surprising, yes–but the very fact struck Lio in a way he couldn’t quite place. Certainly, he couldn’t hold Aina to the same standard he held Galo; no one quite measured up to him. Still. Before Galo could try otherwise, Lio pushed himself from the bunk and into something that resembled a presentable standing posture, despite how desperately his body argued against the effort. There was nothing about this day that he wouldn’t be feeling tomorrow.

“Oh no, you can’t just–” Galo started to argue again, against all logic he knew was perfectly true and fair. He just wasn’t ready to say goodbye, no, _goodnight_ yet. They just got back! And who was Aina to tell him what to do, anyway? Sure, he was tired. Sure, he’d have to be awake again in much less time than they had to talk. Bond. He hated it when they made sense. Worse, it was two versus one!

“Your friend isn’t wrong,” Lio interrupted, edging further away. “As much as I’ve enjoyed our little talk, I can’t stay forever. Like you, I have responsibilities.”

Caught between them, Galo scrubbed a hand down his face, debating his options. There weren’t many dignified answers to this situation, were there? True, that hadn’t always stopped him before; yet, it was his turn to grumble, sigh, and give in like any reasonable person might. He didn’t have to like it, and he wouldn’t. Though, if Galo had anything to say about it, Lio’s reprieve was only temporary. Tomorrow was another day. “Alright, alright. You win. But, you’d better come back–”

Galo pointed, a determined smirk forcing away any trace of disappointment. “–or I’ll have to hunt you down.”

And don’t think he won’t. Definitely don’t think that, because Aina sighed, knowing all too well how sincere he was–although forced to wonder how sincere Lio was. He readily waved off the threat, _‘I’ll look forward to it.’_ Why couldn’t either of them just be normal? Still, she’d take this small success and quickly excuse herself after him, skittering away before Galo could drag her into whatever Lio just escaped. Or, well, before Lio could escape period. She trotted after him, skidding mid-step to grab a thoughtfully-placed bundle of fabric along the way.

“Hey! Wait up.” She wasn’t going through all of this trouble just for you, y’know. She could’ve let Galo keep you all night, and damn if he wouldn’t have tried. Though, much to her relief, her target slowed, stopping just within thrusting distance. A plain shirt, presented sloppily but with no less determination than something they’d expect from… Galo, actually. They’d been spending way too much time together.

Lio eyed the present. A first, and he was hesitant to accept it. Still, given no other option, he supposed blandly that _something_ was better than nothing. The night would be colder without the Promare, so even this much was some comfort. Even with the obvious Burning Rescue emblem plastered front and just a little bit to the left–near his shoulder as he wrestled it onto his person with little ceremony.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find anything better, but I didn’t think you’d fit into anything of Galo’s,” she stifled a laugh. This was one of _hers_ (a spare she didn’t wear normally; long sleeves just got in the way), and seeing it on Lio–leader of the infamous Mad Burnish–was a little much. Aina paused with no small effort to collect herself, “–or if you’d really want that.”

Frankly, it was hard to believe that Galo wore shirts at all, but he’d allow it. Rather, there was something more pertinent on his mind. So, if she cared to continue dogging him down the hallway, he’d accept the company. They could talk. After all, Lio doubted she was chasing after him just to give him a hand-me-down. These Burning Rescue folks were far too nosy for that; although, at least it seemed that the others had cleared off for now. Were they in on it? This _whatever_ plan Aina was clearly hatching, “You know their names. I’m surprised. Galo couldn’t even remember mine after we’d first met.”

“Mm?” She hummed, skimming over their conversation in her mind. What was he–oh! Right, only half of the reason she was doing this. She was tired, too, give her a break. “Oh, Gueira and Meis? Yeah. I guess you had your hands full with Galo, so you didn’t notice. We worked together a few times throughout the day. They were pretty nice.”

_–for a couple of punks,_ she added to her internal monologue. Although very true–no matter what your bias was–it was better she didn’t risk shoving her foot in her mouth so soon into this tentative alliance. Possible friendship. They might not mind it quite as much, she was sure of that. They’d probably be proud, but it was bad form even if she was only teasing. So, summoning all the positive energy she had left, she was determined to be better.

“I see,” Lio acknowledged. That made sense. Partway, anyway. _Nice?_ Were they, really? It was hard to imagine–not because he doubted his lieutenants, but because he couldn’t shake the creeping sense that there was something going on. Something he wasn’t privy to, and he wanted to know why. “They didn’t give you any trouble?”

“No, actually, they were a big help,” she insisted brightly, and they were! The Burnish trusted them, and that trust was critical out in the field–aiding survivors with little reason to trust anything the _Burning Rescue_ had to say. Aiding survivors injured and probably still in shock. She really couldn’t thank them enough. So, taking the figurative leap, Aina continued, rolling for any charisma she could spare. Though, if all else failed, she still had stubbornness on her side.

“They’re.. part of the reason I’m coming with you. We were talking, and I sort of promised them I’d bring them some candy from Lucia’s super secret stash.” Lucia wouldn’t be happy about it, but a promise was a promise. Though, it wasn’t all that she was bringing. Or, really, it wasn’t all they’d talked about, either.

–and there it was. Escape from one firefighter only to be thrust into the company of another. Lio wanted the opposite. Lio wanted many things that weren’t including Aina–as decent as she was–in his rendezvous plans. Lingering distrust, perhaps. Exhaustion, also. He was burned out, quite frankly, trying to keep up with these lunatics. He might as well be one, himself. Yet, this time, he was determined not to crumble to their desires immediately, “I could bring them, myself.”

“You could, but you’re not planning to _walk_ all the way there, are you?” No powers, no sweet ride. Ah, how quickly that was forgotten. Yet, ride or not, it wouldn’t change his answer, pausing to share a pointed leer with his current captor–to no effect on her resolve, either. “Besides, Galo wasn’t kidding, and I know.. I know. I’m asking a lot, but we can’t afford to waste manpower on Galo tearing through the city just to find _you._ ”

“You’re kind of stuck with him, Lio.” Aina offered an apologetic smile, digging out and twirling a set of keys around her finger. “If it helps, everything’s already packed, and I’ll even let you drive.”

He couldn’t be any worse than Galo.

Regardless, Aina, Lio would be disappointed if that _wasn’t_ the case. They were friends now, weren’t they? Or something of the sort. He wasn’t really sure, but he’d certainly agreed to _something_ earlier. That sort of privilege came with expectations–mostly, that Galo was the kind of sentimental idiot to spend an entire morning chasing him through Promepolis because he _missed_ him. Still… perhaps there was a time and place for that, and the offer of a ride was just tempting enough that his leer softened. Another slow defeat. How ever would his pride heal?

“I would have come back,” Lio answered, snatching the keys right out of Aina’s grasp. Nothing could measure up to his bike, but a ride was a ride. So, to the garage it was, company in tow.

“So you say! But you don’t know Galo,” she chimed. “He’ll be up at the crack of dawn _worrying_ if someone’s not there to keep an eye on you.”

Was that an exaggeration? Was that the honest truth? Yes and no. Galo _would_ be the first one up–or if not, then he wouldn’t be far behind first place. It’d taken a while to get used to that back in the day, which made her all the more thankful that she was spending the night somewhere where Galo _wouldn’t_ be nearly raising the dead trying to make coffee. No volume control on that one.

“You seem to care about him a lot,” Lio countered, amused, hoping to win something–even if that only meant steering the subject in a different direction. The day had been too long to relentlessly hover around he and Galo’s relationship. Lack-thereof? Under certain terms. Besides, he was curious, if only in passing banter, _what_ they were. Galo had mentioned family, but was that true for all sides?

Probably. Yet, he couldn’t resist, eyes finally settling on the gloomy steel horizon of the garage. Soon, they’d leave here. “Are you sure you’re only friends?”

Caught off-guard, Aina nearly hit the deck, stumbling over her own feet and right into her bike. She leaned there silently, trying and failing to process the implication a few times too many. Where did, what was–? _God, no._ Her sputtering wasn’t helping the situation, but she tried! She was dumbfounded, honestly. She thought she’d rid herself of that suspicion a long time ago, gesturing with palms raised as she finally regained composure. “I’m _positive._ ”

“He’s… he’s a really nice guy,” Aina defended, shielding herself from Lio’s judgment as she checked her cargo over one last time. Candy, blankets–general first aid and food. All there and secure. “He’s a really nice guy! I care about him, but he’s _not_ my type. And trust me, I know. It’s not like I don’t see him five days a week, every week. I’d go grey if I had to imagine having him around _forever._ It’s not happening.”

So, stop looking at her like that. Or was this some kind of weak attempt to change her mind? Because, that wasn’t happening, either. She saw through your game, Lio. Although, she applauded your ability to send her stammering and defensive. Two could play, so get on the bike, O Great Burnish Leader. You have the keys, and she opened the door for them.

“So you say.” Lio neither retracted nor amended his statement, simply mounting the motorcycle with all the bothersome confidence in the world. Oh, he believed her. And he was even willing to believe that she likewise wasn’t Galo’s romantic fantasy, either–no matter how little he had so far to back up that conclusion. It all served to please the part of him that didn’t want to be the only one caught off-guard _._ A petty, tired victory.

“Let’s just go already,” Aina sighed, taking her rightful place behind him. Boy, was it strange being taller than the driver. It was fine. They’d be fine, and she still looked forward to regrouping with his comrades. She’d see this silver-lining through somehow. “Before I start making a fool of myself suggesting that _you’re_ the one with feelings here.”

She had no proof, not even a hunch. It was, frankly, more baseless than anything Lio ever accused her of, but he wasn’t the only one who could be petty once in a while. Albeit, she was thankful that his reply formed wordlessly in the peal of tires against cement, braced for the long, sleepy drive ahead of them. Through neatly lit streets and wreckage they weaved, minding the paths other rescue workers still used. Better to avoid them. True, Aina had Ignis’ permission for this joint adventure, but the thought of explaining it to anyone else was far too taxing.

She’d done enough of that already on-shift.

Lio, on the other hand, avoided them not out of formality but _habit._ Winding through broken side streets and scorched buildings, his senses were trained on any foreign movement, sound, anything above the engine’s steady thrum. Until, eventually, it cut out completely, rolling to a stop before the empty shell of what had been an old office building. Structurally sound, he hoped–Aina knew–but vacant due to the evacuation effort. Off the beaten path of destruction, it was the perfect place.

Aina hopped off the bike first, following closely behind as Lio walked it in closer–out of sight unless someone was really looking for it. In the wordless void, Aina nearly missed her keys as they were dropped thoughtlessly into her hands. She mumbled _‘thank you’_ , but Lio was already several paces ahead of her again while she fumbled to unload her supplies. Was it too much? Should Lio have helped? Well, that one was a yes for sure, but breaking the silence wasn’t her job.

It was Gueira’s. It was Meis’. They slipped out from the shadows with a hushed, albeit resounding, _“Boss!”_

They were relieved to see him again.

“Hey, I could use some help over here,” Aina called quietly, waving to the freshly-reunited gaggle of Burnish. Glancing among themselves, then to Lio, Meis was first to answer. He nodded. Leaving the inspection of their boss to Gueira, he slunk toward Aina, fetching a bundle of blankets–among a few other neatly-packed necessities–and slinging them over his arm. Somehow, in the few hours between working with her last, he felt the same uneasy, awkward tension as he had the first time. It was almost palpable. So, Meis hesitated, looking again toward where he’d left Lio and Gueira. It was fine. It’d been fine before.

“Did you find anyone else?” Aina murmured, hopeful. For which outcome, she wasn’t sure, but she trusted that they’d handled it.

“…yeah,” Meis said, leading the slow walk inside to regroup. Lio and Gueira were already there, resting among a nest of cleverly placed chairs and whatever else they could find. Soft things. They’d been busy. “Mostly kids. I recognise some of them.”

The others? They probably weren’t Burnish, but that didn’t matter. They were scared and lost, either way, and neither Meis nor Gueira were monsters (contrary to popular belief). As they drew closer, Aina frowned, counting the silhouettes huddled around their remaining teammates. It was more than she’d anticipated, but that’s what all the stuff she brought was for, right? She set some of it down at the outer rim of the nest, tiptoeing across the threshold. Still mostly in uniform, she could tell it… it scared some of them.

“She’s cool.” Meis shrugged the rest of the supplies off, kneeling down to inspect their lot. She promised, right? In a moment, spying exactly the thing he’d hoped to find, he held up a box so colorful that it could only be described as a cavity waiting to happen. Score. “–and she brought candy, so don’t worry about her.”

Gueira piped up, “She’s the one who needs worrying if she tries anything funny. Right, boss?”

An amused scoff was all the answer Lio had to give.

Right, thanks for the vote of confidence, guys. Really helps. Well, one of them was being more genuinely helpful than the rest, passing off the colourful box of sweets to the round, coveting eyes of a few children. Survivors, elated by the gift of something they probably hadn’t had in far too long. She crouched, rifling through her own collection of things and sorting them into lots. A rescuer’s work was never really done, was it?

Her smile was one of reserved confidence, although privately entertained by how the other two slowly had their personal space fully invaded by some of the smaller children. Burnish, Aina assumed. Why else would they be so comfortable? It was cute; she was thankful. She wouldn’t stop being thankful for their patience–for Gueira and Meis, for Lio. So, sitting on her heels, she greeted in soft tones, “My name’s Aina. I’m from the third Burning Rescue unit, and I’ll be spending the night with you, if that’s okay?”

Several sets of eyes were on her, including those of her helpers. Really, Aina had never felt more out of place in her life, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear–for once wishing, maybe, she’d brought Galo with her. He was an idiot, but he had the sort of charisma that no one was immune to for long. Yet, it couldn’t be helped. Galo was sleeping–hopefully–and she was here now. Alone. She could do this. “I brought food and supplies enough for everyone, so try not to fill up on candy too much. I’ll never hear the end of it if the others find out I gave you all tummy aches.”

Quiet. _This was going well._ Scanning over the faces of their little flock, at least no one looked injured. Without examining them, she couldn’t be totally certain, but Aina’s trust was with the two Lieutenants; they would have told her. For now, she offered water, food, and the warmth of a few blankets–distributed with the hesitant acceptance of a homeowner feeding stray cats until, eventually, Aina was satisfied that they’d been cared for. They were cared _about._ How many of them had homes, parents to return to?

Aina, forced out of her thoughts by a crudely folded slip of paper jabbing her in the side, yipped in surprise. Gueira. Temporarily untangled from his kin, he’d produced it from a jacket pocket moments prior. After all, what better way to do as he’d been told than make a small spectacle of it? Maybe lighten the mood a little, because God knew they could all use it. He flashed his teeth, “We got as many names as we could. You said that’d help, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Thank you,” she stammered, unfolding the–it was the guest sign in sheet from reception, nice–paperwork to quickly skim over its contents. Huh. It was more than just names. Ages, a few hastily written descriptions, possible family, and a handful of other small details–not for all of them, but the effort wouldn’t go unappreciated. Even if they had to interview everyone again individually come morning, it helped to have something to reference later. Who knows, they could’ve been more open around someone less _Official._

“I’m really grateful for your help,” Aina added, tucking their notes away someplace safe. Then, offering the best totally-not-exhausted smile she could muster, “–all of you. I know I said it earlier, but I don’t want you to start thinking that I don’t.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Gueira waved off. He didn’t what else to do with the praise or if he trusted it completely, but a truce was a truce. And, looking back over to his spot–now overrun in his absence, shit–he plopped himself down right where he was. Could be worse. Could be better, but Aina was one of the more tolerable firefighters by his estimate. “We don’t need convincing.”

So he said, worried that she’d keep piling it on otherwise. They weren’t doing anything they wouldn’t have done otherwise–their application and a few of the faces were just a little different. No one was getting left stranded on their watch. No one was getting captured, either. That was what had taken the most effort to convince him, Meis, and, hell, probably even Lio of–the Burnish leader sitting not more than ten feet away, knuckles buried in his cheek and wrapped in one of the donated blankets.

It was all quite the scene.

“Alright, alright.. any more and I’ll probably start sounding like Galo, anyway.” Aina stretched, tugging her hair out of its ponytail to run her fingers through.The following pause, interspersed with the sound children who would soon wind down to sleep, made her thoughtful. Once tomorrow came, the survivors would be evacuated somewhere safe, and their day would begin again something like how it had been the past several hours. Yet, what about after that? So focused on her work, Aina hadn’t really stopped to consider what happened to ones leftover.

The ones who didn’t need saving. Her eyes met Lio’s, “What will you do when this is over? I’m sure Galo wants you to stay, but… I know things are more complicated than the desires of one man.”

She only enforced his presence for as long as the recovery effort needed them, and even that was more of a heartfelt suggestion than a demand. Lio’s knuckles left an imprint where he’d been leaning; he’d been thinking about it, too, and while he couldn’t admit it around all of these people… Lio needed to be strong in the face of uncertainty. Some of them would want to return to normal lives, and he wouldn’t begrudge them that. Rather, for them and for all of the Burnish, he knew Galo was right. They had to keep fighting. It was the how and where he wasn’t sure of yet. Or if the Powers That Be would allow them peace. Especially him.

Saving the world didn’t always matter when it came to politics.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Meis answered. He’d take the bullet if he had to, idly flipping his hair over one shoulder. “–firefighter. No offense, but it’s better for us if you don’t.”

Wind taken out of her sails, Aina sighed, although the faux melancholy didn’t last long. It was her turn to leave knuckle-marks on her cheek, leaning forward cross-legged and eyebrows raised with playful incredulity. Meis was the recipient of a single, lopsided shrug. “You’re probably right.. I wasn’t planning to tell anyone, but I definitely can’t tell what I don’t know.”

“–fire _starter._ ” All three of them, but Meis and Gueira especially-so. Yet, somehow, Aina found herself slowly becoming endeared to them. Suppose working together–and working _well_ together–did that to you, if Lio and Galo were any example. Meis didn’t even argue, because, well, she wasn’t wrong. Hell yeah, they were fire starters. They had to be on the same page about something, right?

Lio was thankful. If this was the worst they behaved together, then perhaps he could rest. Yet, there was follow-up that begged asking, “What about you? What will the Burning Rescue become without the Promare?”

“Er,” Aina straightened some. “I guess we’ll go back to being regular firemen. It’ll take some adapting… in our unit, Ignis is the only one old enough to remember the world without Burnish fires. Though, I feel like Galo’s the most prepared for this.”

She shook her head, chuckling quietly to herself. Sorry if you didn’t want a story, guys, but she had one. And she was ~~tired~~ uninhibited enough to launch into it with little provocation other than simple sentimentality. “You should have seen him on his first day. No mecha, no real world experience. Just a homemade _Matoi_ and the stubbornness to not take no for an answer. He shouldn’t have even come with, but Galo somehow convinced the chief to let him spectate from the sidelines.”

“He’s an idiot.” Both of Lio’s lieutenants nodded. Made sense. They were fine with story time if that was the premise. Although, the reality of Aina’s story hadn’t dawned on her yet. “There was a woman trapped in the building. I don’t know how we missed her, but we’re a small team. We’ve got our hands full with the other survivors, so _what does Galo do?_ ”

A pause for effect. Rhetorical question. “He launches himself into the building with no protection other a thick coat of extinguishing gel. We all thought he was crazy! He IS crazy, and I don’t know how he did it–but _he saved her._ At least…”

This time the pause wasn’t for effect, blinking, glancing between Gueira and Meis as if she’d just had the revelation of the century. Aina covered her mouth, briefly, unable to decide what she wanted to say. Yet, she sure needed to say it, waving one hand for all the room to see. _“–that was you two, wasn’t it? You took her.”_

“How didn’t I realise this until now?” Her words blended together in quick succession, incredulous and mostly at her own embarrassing lack of awareness. Her face was red. They shrugged. Now that she mentioned it, the situation sounded familiar. _She_ was familiar, but they hadn’t stuck around that long. Remembering who or which firefighters they’d been messing with that day was never a priority.

“You caught us,” Gueira guffawed to the dismay of the few sleeping around him. “Guess we’ve known each other a while. Does that change your opinion of us, missy?”

This was the first time Lio heard about it. It was before his time, he mused, quietly connecting the loose threads for himself. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been so surprising, given all that had happened, that they were so interconnected. If it really was that day. If it was the same _Her_ Aina was talking about. Thyma. The one neither of them saved in the end. He would ask Galo, but later. He wasn’t here, and he didn’t want to interrupt what was happening already.

“Er, well–no. Not really.” Aina tried smiling, but it was crooked and sheepish. Some way to be put on the spot, huh. “I’ll probably never approve of everything you’ve done, but that’s… okay. I don’t think you’re bad people.”

There was no time to brace herself, lurching forward over crossed legs as she was the recipient of one hearty _thwack._ A great, big manly pat on the back, followed another bout of (thankfully) much quieter laughter. Geez. Aina was too stunned to know what to do about it, caught somewhere between lingering embarrassment and relief. How was she _supposed_ to react? These boys weren’t killers--that much they’d, especially Lio, firmly established--but they were sure going to be the death of her someday.

“Ha, don’t strain yourself, Aina,” Gueira snickered, enabled by the sly grin from his partner across the way. Yeah, even if they believed her. Mostly. They were about as lost on a reaction as she was. This whole bonding thing was a foreign experience all around--that was what they were doing, right? Fuck if he knew. “We might start thinking you like us.”

“--wha, hey! I’m serious,” Aina objected, scrabbling for what dignity she had left. It wasn’t so awful, though. If they could tease each other like this, then maybe... it was possible, anyway. Midst a sigh, she fell softly onto her back--a controlled descent, only somewhat comfortable atop a few of the empty travel bags she’d brought, but it’d do. She was tired; it was late, and if she kept trying to carry on conversation like this, then they’d never get any rest. Someone had to set an example.

“I do like you.” She couldn’t see their faces, so she held out on a hope that they weren’t totally affronted by her honesty. What a silly, stupid, productive day. Through a lot of it, Aina felt like she’d been channeling Galo. Although, that wasn’t such a bad thing, either; it led her here. It was a learning experience. So, closing her eyes, Aina asserted, “And if you keep arguing, I’m going to like you more out of spite. So, go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”

_Boys._ Albeit, judging by the lack of rebuttal, they were listening this time. Thankfully. Being the Sleep Enforcer was a tough gig.

Though, her only regret was forgetting her jacket or, maybe, not bringing enough blankets for everyone _and_ herself. The night wasn’t that cold. Yet, as many had time and time again pointed out to her, Aina’s choice of rescuing attire didn’t offer much _coverage._ So, she nestled closely unto herself; she could take it, wondering idly if they, the Burnish, would be alright. She couldn’t say for certain, but it made sense to her that they’d feel colder without the living flames they’d held dear. At least they had each other.

Yet, amidst the shuffling of her companions, Aina was surprised by one more thing. Perhaps it was pity for the single firefighter, struggling by her lonesome to maintain homeostasis. Or maybe, just maybe..? Draped haphazardly across her torso, it was heavy and not terribly soft, but Aina knew the feeling of genuine leather. It was warm. Gueira scoffed--was the best he could do, because he sure as hell wasn’t inviting Aina over to join them ‘n share body heat. Still, carefully wedging himself back next to Meis--disturbing a few grumbly children in the process--it wouldn’t be conscionable to let any of’m freeze like that. Even if it was probably her own fault.

“I’m getting that back.” Gueira jabbed a finger at her accusatorily--an effect lost on Aina in all but spirit. Meanwhile, Meis’ shoulders bounced in a muted snicker, burying himself against his partner’s side while it was so flagrantly open for taking. Lio was welcome to join them, however, surrounded on all sides by a flock of sleepy Burnish, he was far too cozy to move. Good for him. Gueira accepted their fate, “So, don’t get too comfortable.”

In response, Aina sleepily wrestled her arms through the sleeves of his jacket, succumbing to her exhaustion with one final murmur, “Mhmm... I’ll remember that. Goodnight, boys.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit (1/20): Still a WIP, but I think there's plenty here to add what I have. Enjoy the nonsense!

First light had already broken a while ago, but Lio let his lieutenants rest, sharing the morning’s companionable silence with Aina alone. Productive as ever, she still wore Gueira’s jacket as if it was the most normal thing in the world—a little too large in the shoulders, but not a bad fit. Neither were the long sleeves she’d gifted Lio before, bunched up to his elbows so he could better help the effort to tidy the mess they’d made. Tsk.

Returning from one of many voyages back to her bike—parked just where they’d left it, thank god—Aina paused, leaning against the back of a chair in the dappling sunlight. She smiled, hair a mess and disheveled beyond what combing it with her fingers could do. Still, she surveyed the scene before them fondly, catching Lio’s eyes as they passed—begging some question or another, although neither of them spoke. It was a beautiful morning, but they had work to do. First, though, she dug a phone from her pocket and took a picture. A memory.

“Are you planning to blackmail us later?” Lio asked to tune of another shutter click—this time centered squarely on his face. Well, if it was blackmail—and he didn’t really think it was—then it wasn’t very good. Although the sun was shining, the room was still mostly dim, and it was hard to tell exactly where they were with how drastically they’d reinvented the office’s floor plan the night before. Too bad for her.

“Hm, what? No.” Aina put her phone away, cheerful despite all of the subtle aches and pains. A nice cup of coffee might do some good once they got back. Whenever that was. For Lio, it was probably sooner rather than later. For Aina, she was less sure. There was still plenty to do here, and _she_ wasn’t the one people were waiting on. “The first one is for me, and the second—”

He had a feeling that he already knew where this was going. “—is for Galo. We’re running behind, so I was giving him an update. You’re still here.”

Lio was right, but of course he was. That man never gave up. It was admirable, really. Although, Lio disapproved of being photographed solely for that purpose—or in general. Still, she meant well; he knew that. So, for now, that was enough to settle his uneasiness. Yet, in the future—and he was sure there was a long one ahead of them—Lio made a note to discuss this with his captors. Friends. They were friends. Galo was his friend. Lio’s expression softened at the thought, ruffling the sleepy head of one of their charges as they awoke.

“I am,” Lio agreed. “Will Galo be joining us?”

Aina shook her head, “No, we’ll meet him down at the station—or _you_ will. I might stay here with the boys to make sure the other Rescue Team gets here okay. Can I trust you with my bike?”

Another rhetorical question, he knew, because combined with her playful posturing—Lio caught the keys as they sailed overhead. Their alliance was new, but less fragile than they gave it credit for. Even so, turning the keys over in his hands, Lio kept a special reservation within himself for how well this would all work out in the end. Though, he’d keep hoping, believing in himself and the Galo that believed in all of them. Was that too corny?

“Can I trust you to handle _them?_ ” Lio finally answered, brow raised and gesturing to his lieutenants. They were a handful and loyal to a fault; although, he was pleased to see how well they’d been getting along, even if it was mostly just this one person so far. Aina. For what it was worth, he respected her for that. Then again, if she handled Galo on a daily basis, what were a few extra punks? Surely, they couldn’t be any worse. Perhaps different in their mischief, but not worse.

“They’ll have to listen to me.” Aina tugged on the lapels of ~~Gueira’s~~ her jacket, proudly displaying it for all those slowly waking to see. This was silly, and her serious expression was quickly foiled by her own bobbing shoulders. She laughed, undeterred by the rustling of their teammates. Even Gueira, himself. _Good morning, sunshine._ Don’t mind her and her empty threats, because that’s all they were. “If he wants this back. I’m comfortable.”

Black leather wasn’t really her thing nor did it match _any_ of her aesthetics, but she was cozy and warm. So, that had to count for something. Besides, it was the highest honour she could’ve ever hoped to receive from the two of them, and that—above all else—made her the happiest. It was progress. It was trust, quite frankly, that she wasn’t _that bad._ So, Aina wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible, shoving her hands into its pockets.

Lio allowed it, waving her off to regroup and inform his lieutenants of the situation. He’d leave soon, and what remained between Aina and Gueira was her battle to fight. Albeit, Lio anticipated an early surrender—or else they’d never hear the end of it. Still, everything was set. Everything _except_ for the few still struggling with sleep in their eyes, but anything that needed repacking was packed and ready to rock ‘n roll. Lio, most of all, was prepared. As prepared as anyone could be with a world of questions and a long, toilsome day ahead of them. Galo had some of the answers; he’d certainly enough to talk about before.

So, Lio left Aina to handle the aftermath–to the banter and the struggle of dealing with more than _just_ the lost children. Such a strange feeling. Since his induction as leader, they weren’t apart often nor for very long. Yet, there he was… commandeering a Burning Rescue vehicle through the same side streets and rubble he knew from the night before. Away. The journey back was shorter than he’d remembered and _busier._ Encroaching on the FDPP building, Lio avoided the swarm of activity as best as he could. Although, they didn’t pay him much mind. Far too busy to question someone arriving with a standard-issue bike and matching shirt (thanks, Aina).

To his continuing surprise, Galo wasn’t the first person demanding his attention–front and center!–after he parked. Wasn’t she… cold? She wore less than Aina. Somehow. Bouncing on her heels, Lucia flagged him down across the garage with all the intensity of a person twice her size. And she showed no signs of slowing down yet, either, yelling his name as if he’d somehow forgotten it in the few hours he’d been awake. Well, someone has to keep him on his toes, right?

Her enthusiasm simmered a fraction as Lio approached, “C’mon, slowpoke, we don’t got all morning! And before ya ask–”

Lio asked anyway, “Is Galo inside?”

“I was getting to that, geez.” Lucia rolled her eyes. Both of them! ‘Has Aina checked in?’ ‘Is Lio here yet?’ _‘Where’s Galo?’_ And Lio didn’t even thank her for saving him the trouble of being bowled over first thing by their enthusiastic–but not literal–golden retriever. The things she did for her friends. Although, all of this only served to give her better ammunition for later, so she couldn’t be too mad about it. She started walking.

“He’s here, don’t worry,” Lucia said, waving. “He got slammed with paperwork that ‘absolutely couldn’t wait’ – orders from up top. So, he’s been grounded all morning.”

And Galo hated it.

“You should probably proofread it.” A shrug, casting a sideways glance at Lio. Legal things, ugh. It’s all hugs and happy endings 'til the world reminds you that you live in a _society_ with rules and junk. Lucia was just glad it wasn’t her stuck in the office. Yet. She suspected it’d be her turn eventually. Still, until then, she was much happier shoving Lio into a room with Galo and calling it a day. What could go wrong? “Unless you _wanna_ let Galo tell the whole story, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Rounding on another set of doors, Lucia all but pushed Lio through them before he could get another word in. “So, good luck, have fun. See you in two years.”

_Have fun, indeed._ Lio was far from a pushover, but there was something to be said about being taken by _surprise._ Much to his disadvantage, he wasn’t–nor had he the desire to be–completely familiar with the layout of the fire station, stumbling into the office with all the elegance of a one-legged kangaroo. He slammed his hand onto a desk, righting himself–but at what cost? A moment’s surveillance of the room told him that Galo’s attention was already trained on his unglamorous entrance, leaning against a balled fist in some futile attempt to conceal a smile.

“Lio, you made it!” Galo said, retiring polite composure to wave. At least one of them was happy to–no, that wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair at all. They were friends. Hell, he _liked_ Galo. Those feelings were so new that Lio had to remind himself again, glancing between Galo, a chair, and the other desk situated between them. He chose the desk. Why bother with a chair when you could have a higher vantage point _and_ the freedom to sit however you wanted? It was no _throne_ by any means, but Lio made do, hoisting himself to meet Galo’s undivided attention–careful not to perch atop any errant paperwork. So messy. How did Galo ever get any work done?

“As I told Aina, I would have come back.” Even without a chaperone. Lio appraised Galo’s enthusiasm, trailing down from the wild bedhead, that smile– _stupid_ –and down one shoulder to the… next. There was something missing, something frankly _amiss_ –and not just that Galo was wearing a shirt today. Caught in the moment, there was no hiding how Lio’s gaze abruptly stopped, lingering, wondering, unable to move on. Concern pursed his features, and he had to consciously stop himself from _touching._ From reaching out, from closing what little space they had between them to trace over raised flesh and redness.

“Yeah? I’m glad you did,” Galo said, rubbing his left arm. Should have expected that. Should have maybe thought about how to address it sooner than immediately right now, but he laughed, anyway. Awkward, sure, and the paperwork stacked to high heavens might be another story; yet, no amount of self-consciousness was going to get him down. Not today, no sir. “Sorry, I know it’s not pretty. Actually, I’d say it’s pretty mad that I haven’t been taking good care of it lately, but if–”

_–it bothers you, I can go change._ Lio silenced him, looming over the precarious stillness with little more than a tilt of his head and crossed arms. No touching. He had to enforce that rule on himself somehow. “It doesn’t. You said it yourself, getting scorched is part of the job. Galo Thymos.”

“And I don’t regret it for a second, Lio–” _There we go._ Galo brightened, prodding one of Lio’s leather-clad legs with a fist. Even if that wasn’t his finest hour in retrospect, well, Lio was sitting right there. Lio was here giving him some deserved hell for it, and having that privilege was worth the growing pains. “–Fotia. Though, I got this before we met.”

“Yet, you continue to fight fire.. naked.” A strange man with stranger habits. It was a marvel, really, how stupidly competent Galo was underneath all of his bravado and questionable choices–some of which Aina shed light on earlier. Was this related? Was it not? Ever so many questions loosely strung together by secondhand knowledge and intuition. He supposed this was as good of a segue as any to start asking them. So, Lio pried his attention from the maze of scar tissue riddling Galo’s arm, ready to face the rest of him. “What happened?”

“I got in the way,” Galo answered in a breathy laugh, squeezing his eyes shut while he shook his head. The memory was still fresh after all these months, and as much as he would have greatly exaggerated the story for anyone else… Lio was spared this time. So, he started with the obvious: _there was a fire._ “–being a newbie, I didn’t have any Rescue Gear yet, but I think you know I’m too stubborn to let that stop me.”

He flashed Lio a smile.

“So, when I heard there was a woman still trapped inside, I did exactly what you’re thinking I did.” It wasn’t hard to imagine, even without Aina’s version of the story. He came, he saw, he did his job. Galo wasn’t Galo otherwise, and there was no iteration of Galo in the entire multiverse that would _ever_ accept leaving someone behind. Not even if they wronged him. So, he continued, passion dimmed to a glowing ember–never to burn out completely. “I got lucky; even with your boys making a mess of the place, we made it out alright.”

Lio snorted, but he didn’t object. No, that sounded right, and was only proven all the more true by their own prior admission. His lieutenants were a couple of rowdy troublemakers, but he’d known that from the start. From the instant they’d accepted him as leader and a while before that, even. So, don’t let him stop you. Not unless you were really, really wrong, but Lio dared to believe that they were past that phase. Growing pains and late-night thank-yous and all that. He nodded, motioning Galo to continue.

“–or so I thought. It turns out… I never got her name,” Galo frowned. Hated that. Hated that a lot, actually. It was ever-present on his expression, brows knit together as he finished his tale a touch more somberly than he’d started it. “–but the stress was enough for her to Awaken, and I was in the way when it happened. It’s my fault.”

_His fault._ Galo never ceased to blindside him, facade bruised by the impact. His self-imposed rule of touch wavered, arms slipping from their firm cross and into his lap. They stayed there; Lio had that much willpower left. Perhaps there was nothing truly wrong with contact; it was friendly. It was well-intentioned, and Galo wouldn’t have stopped him. Yet, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Give in too much all at once, and Lio wasn’t sure he was ready for where that’d take them. In some ways, it felt like a step back from the time spent shirtless and ~~dying~~ ready to save the world. Whatever.

“Thyma,” Lio added. Patience. They had time–time to think, time to process, to cope. Galo was a simple man, but he cared. Sometimes too much. They were alike in that way, conversation catching, swelling around an answer neither wanted to accept. Galo repeated her name, _Thyma_ , a question in itself. He committed it to memory. Yet, Lio’s pause–somehow an inescapable void despite the few seconds that passed–was enough. He placed a hand on Lio’s knee, a simple comfort.

“She was the one–” Galo swallowed. A moment to rearrange his thoughts. “She was the one at the lake, wasn’t she? I thought she was familiar, but I didn’t want to believe…”

It was her. It was hard to tell from a distance, from all of the bandages, from the shell of a woman desperately clinging to life. However, for pride or shame, Galo couldn’t forget someone like that, not easily. They couldn’t save her. So, clawing the swell of guilt back down to the pit it crawled out of, Galo stole one of Lio’s hands from his lap. He wasn’t letting go. Just because Lio refused to let himself be vulnerable, to touch and console, didn’t mean that his restraint was universal. You picked the wrong man if you wanted that. Yet, Lio wasn’t shying away.

“We’ll make it up to her,” Galo said, glancing up to meet Lio’s face. Their eyes locked, a spark of determination shared, ignited between them. Lio trapped Galo’s hand between his; he was warm. Fine. Promise. Take responsibility for your words, you mad man, because he believed you. Out of all the people he could have been stuck with… Galo’s grip tightened, standing, suddenly a little too close. A little too tall, even if they were only eye-level with each other.

So, Lio ceded hand-holding dominance to firmly secure his palm against Galo’s shoulder, pushing him further away. Trying to. Leverage was hard to come by when faced with a heavy barricade of muscle. Still, Galo obliged his indignation, a laugh smashing what remained of their mute comradery to pieces. Idiot. Sweet, charming, but always that. He stepped aside, gesturing in one grand sweeping motion somewhere–did Galo actually know where? Or was it symbolic? That was a wall. Besides, where exactly did Galo think they were going? All Lio saw was a stack of unfinished paperwork.

“In the mean time, I don’t suppose Aina fed you before she sent you back,” Galo mused, switching gears. He hadn’t let go yet. He _wasn’t_ letting go until he saw Lio’s boots solidly planted on the floor, so let him help you down. Regardless of whether he needed it–and Lio surely didn’t–it was his turn to oblige Galo’s just as obvious unspoken request. Lest Galo suddenly determine that picking him up was an equally viable solution, Lio shoved himself off of the desk to the satisfying click of heels against tile.

“Not explicitly.” Now, return his hand. He wasn’t walking around the firehouse like that. Galo. _Galo_. Lio slipped from Galo’s grasp the moment it went slack, punctuating the action by brushing faux debris from his person. Although, hm, perhaps not all of it was fake. Unlike Galo, he hadn’t a chance to shower in… too long, and he’d only continue putting it off so long as they were together. Here. In a building with showers publicly available to its staff–that he wasn’t going anywhere near unless it was _absolutely necessary._

“I could eat,” Lio decided, as satisfied as he’d ever be with his current presentability. Although, he still dreaded getting thrust headfirst into the company of the building’s other occupants. He gave his companion a once-over. “Restless?”

“Something like that,” Galo admitted. “But you’d be, too, if you were stuck in here all day! They won’t even let me leave the building ‘til I’m done. Lucia threatened me with _handcuffs!_ ”

She was joking. Probably. He hoped that she was joking, because even if they were close… it was hard to tell with Lucia sometimes. At least with Lio here now, he had a valid reason for leaving the room; they weren’t going to yell at him for taking care of his partner, right? Right? Yeah. The perfect plan, and a temporary reprieve from the swamp of heavy emotions concentrated _right here._ In heart, body, and writing, Galo needed a break.

“Shame…” Lio fell in step behind Galo as they entered the hall, memorizing the curves of his back–the definition of musculature squeezed beneath a shirt two sizes too small, leaving nothing for imagination. Although, it was little more than a handsome distraction from the glances of passerby; trapped like a wild animal in a suburban alleyway, Lio was the restless one this time. He had no power over them anymore. No advantage past his own natural fitness and wit. So, Lio banked on intimidation, on careful avoidance–on Galo, who greeted each familiar face with confidence.

He envied that.

One day. One day, it wouldn’t be this way. This feeling would stop. True, there were always exceptions, as was the nature of humanity so deeply ingrained in its own biases–but most of them _weren’t_ dangerous. They were just people. Normal, every day people who worked hard to keep others safe. They weren’t that different. Given time, given space, they’d come to terms with one another. Lio reminded himself, eyes trained forward as the smell of coffee wafted closer. Until then, he was an outlier in their ranks, hovering beside Galo as they entered the common area.

It was the very same Galo that surprised with another touch, brushing his knuckles against Lio’s arm. Same smile, bright and reassuring, piercing through the veil of anxiety bearing down on him. Galo tilted his head–a little too far by some accounts–disturbing a few stray locks of hair that fell shamelessly into his face. Pfeh. Sorry, one second. He had something to say, promise. Something inspiring! Probably. However, unlike Meis, Galo wasn’t about the hair-covering-half-of-your-face look.

“Hey,” he started, smoothing his hair back where it belonged. Focus, Galo. “Don’t worry… I wasn’t popular when I first got here, either.”

Even if some of them were a little rougher around the edges than others, they wouldn’t bite. Or, if they tried, they’d have to deal with Galo and who wanted that? No one. Not Lio, considering the admission as he surreptitiously edged toward the coffee-maker and the neat line of foam cups beside it. Not Galo, whose eyes darted across the commons, counting heads. Not too many people. There was… Lucia he spotted instantly, though no one else from his team. No Remi, no Varys, no Ignis, no–well, he knew where Aina was. She was outside _doing things._ Lucky.

Lio pushed a cup of coffee into his hands. _Oh, thanks?_ He’d found a bagel, too, but that and the other cup stayed his. It wasn’t much, but it required the least effort. Certainly, Lio had worse mornings, worse _meals_ out on the road. Eying Lucia–she was the one who directed him to Galo, wasn’t she? She was safe enough and too focused on the tablet nestled precariously in her lap to notice them yet. So, he settled for sitting on the arm of the sofa. Etiquette be damned. Taking a drink, Lio finally responded, “Were you ever?”

Well, damn, Lio had him there. Struck point-blank and annihilated. Galo sputtered into his coffee, laughing, “Popular? No. No, actually… looking back, I think I was the weird kid. No parents, not a lot of friends–I’ve been told I’ve got spirit.”

A burning soul. Something to be proud of. Something he swore would keep going til the day he took his last breath–longer if he had to. Lio hummed, stalling for a reprise as he took a bite of food; he knew some about the fire, the trauma, Kray and his betrayal. Although, back then, neither had he so much free time to consider it that deeply. Galo was more than just a collection of stories told first or secondhand. He deserved something more thoughtful than what Lio had prepared, but a bagel distraction only lasted so long.

Plus, Lucia was leering at them now. She heard _some_ of that, and–sorry to change the subject–she piped up. You snooze, you lose, Lio. Bond later. There was some explaining to do, and maybe it wasn’t her business. Maybe Aina was usually the one who kept this knucklehead in line, but, barring her presence, Ignis left Lucia behind with _one task._ She had to at least make some effort. “Galo, don’t tell me you’re done _already._ I saw your desk, and it’s only been like twenty minutes!” _  
_

“We’re.. taking a break,” Galo answered, rubbing his neck. No one had to know that nothing had gotten done since Lio showed up. Or in the past hour, really. Whose bright idea was it to force Galo into an office first thing in the morning, anyway? Anyone who had the slightest clue shoud’ve known better. Either way, Lio’s unimpressed silence was his only backup. Thanks, buddy. Enjoy your bagel while you can. “You’re not going to tell on us, are you?”

“Pfft, you think _I’m_ gonna be the one who tells Ignis that his favourite lackey is playing hooky with–” She wanted to say boyfriend. She really, really wanted to call Lio his boyfriend just for the sake of it. Yet, Lucia paused to consider, filling the void with aggressive hand motions–all leading up to a flippant wave between them. Oh boy, they were hopeless. Lio especially, but y’know what? She could kinda sympathize with being a tiny, spitfire blond trapped on all sides by a bunch of buff firemen.

“Ugh, never mind. I really don’t care. If you wanna be stuck inside all day, that’s your business.” There, that was her effort, dropping her tablet onto the neighboring cushion so she could regroup. She had Galo and she had Lio, both her captive audience ‘til they left the room. Leaning back, she prodded her fellow couch-mate’s shin with her foot. Actually. Hey, hello, she thought of something better.

“–while I’m thinking about it, I hope you told your friends to take it easy on Aina. She doesn’t stand a chance,” Lucia snickered, reveling in their particular brand of accompanying blank stares. Galo was sweet and clueless, Lio… less sweet, equally confused, but with an added sort of indignation that Lucia was pretty fond of. All in all, the very best reactions, waiting for one of them, _either_ of them to say something.

“They were getting along when I left.” Aina was capable. If she weren’t, Lio wouldn’t have left her alone with them. Yet, casting a sidelong glance at Galo left him with fewer answers than he’d had to start with. No help there, even though this was Galo’s friend; they were _both_ Galo’s friends. Teammates. Crew. They were all ridiculous, whatever they were. It was too early for this. He sighed, “Dare I ask?”

“I’m just sayin.” Lucia shrugged, mischief fully achieved. “She won’t admit it, but I know Aina’s type better than she does. So, if she’s not smitten with at least _one_ of them by the end of the week–”

Lio asked. Lucia delivered. Yet, how could he–how was he supposed to..? Galo broke the tension with an empty _thock_ of his cup against the coffee table; yeah, he wasn’t sure, either, but uh… something had to be said here, huh. Something, something to defend Aina’s honour? No, that wasn’t quite it, but what _was_ the point here? To embarrass them, her, Meis and Gueira? Frankly, _dumbfounded_ was the only way Galo knew how to be, but he found his voice eventually. “You know, Aina won’t be happy with you spreading rumours about her. It was bad enough when you guys said it was me.”

“Hey, that one wasn’t my fault!” Lucia protested, voice dropping a few levels. You guys were no fun, but fine. It was honesty time with the most sincere tone Lucia could muster and a sigh. She sunk into the sofa, defeated. There wasn’t any point in her life where this was something she was good at–ech, romance-y feeling stuff. Maybe she wrong! It was still too early to tell, so maybe Aina would just be really good chums with Lio’s lieutenants. Lucia would be happy with that. Good for Aina, making more friends. “I’m serious, though. I’m being serious. Just for you. I don’t want her getting crushed, not right after her sister…”

“Okay? I know Aina can take care of herself, but you’re their leader. So… just tell’m to behave.”

Among the many questions leftover–some reserved for Galo, others more relevant–Lio made a quick note to himself: apologise to Aina. Later. In the mean time, he supposed he also had to address this hypothetical. Accusation? Request. Lio wasn’t familiar with Aina in more than passing, and _frankly_ he wasn’t here to police whether or not feelings were allowed–or incite suspicion that they existed, even just as a possibility. None of it was provable, no matter what Lucia said or what Galo couldn’t wrap his head around.

“As if I haven’t already,” Lio said. If something came up, then he’d remind them. That was that. He trusted that they, Aina, or whoever else wanted to insert themselves into this bizarre situation could handle themselves like reasonable adults. And, well, Lio already had his hands full–with Galo, with leadership, with _life as he knew it._ Curiosity would be the death of him if he indulged in every aspect of it.

“Yeah, well!” Well..? What was her argument here? Something about trying to have fun, tease Aina a little, maybe look out for her friend, too? Why did they have to take it so seriously? Yet, the words stuck in her throat, caught by Galo’s understanding yet intense disapproval–hell, he rarely disapproved anything she said! That was their thing! So, Lucia deflated again, batting at Galo’s line of sight with another drawn-out sigh, “–don’t look at me that way, Galo. You’re one who made this weird.”

“You’re good at that, actually.” Sure, Aina might be off-limits, but that wasn’t a sign she’d totally given up on cobbling a conversation together. Or that she was out of material, because Galo said such interesting things… and if Lio was sticking around (Lucia hoped so), then why not let him in on a piece of frankly ridiculous Burning Rescue lore? The worst had already happened, and it couldn’t get any more awkward. “–and you’re just mad about last time ‘cause you believed your own hype for like a _whole day_ and ya panicked!”

“Hey, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings! What was I supposed to do?” Hypothetical feelings that she didn’t have at all, but how was Galo supposed to know that, especially back then? Lio went back to his bagel, blessed for the fact that–despite all of their misbehaviour–his lieutenants at least had their relationships worked out. Well, let them bicker. No one else dared approach them while they were. Or– _mostly_ anyone. Caught between two mouthy firemen and his first meal of the day, the soft, grey nose poking through his hair was a surprise. Um.

“I dunno, maybe _listen_ for two seconds instead of yammering on like an idiot about ‘taking responsibility’? You’re lucky Aina had the day off.” –though, at the time, Lucia was worried that at any moment he was ready to go bust down her door just to talk to her. Worse was that they all knew he could do it. Yikes. Still, it was kinda funny in retrospect, big dummy. The biggest dummy. She prayed for the person who actually fell in love with him, and maybe a lil bit for Lio, too, if they weren’t the same person. “You’re hopeless. Y’know that, right?”

Lio offered the snoot a piece torn from his bagel. He heard them–and he judged them–but he was busy. There was a rat on his shoulder, and such an occasion required his utmost skills in diplomacy. To his relief, Vinny accepted the meager offering, gripping it tightly between his mitts while he made himself comfortable. Success. Meanwhile, midst one more indignation, that little swatch of red and grey caught Galo’s attention. He finally noticed, limbs slowing, freezing, and inevitably falling back to his sides. Aw…

“Yeah, I know,” Galo said, ire falling victim to the faint outline of a smirk. “But if you hated it so much, you wouldn’t keep enabling me.”

Pfft, alright. Alright, fine, she could work with that, especially if their guest wasn’t biting. Oh well. New plan. New strat and a new shrug, digging in her labcoat pocket for a piece of hard candy to pop into her mouth. “What can I say? You’re the best lab-rat I’ve ever had–no offense, Vinny.”

Perking at his name, Vinny squeaked through a cheekful of bread, oblivious to the pseudo-argument dissolving around them. He had food; he made a friend, and that friend was–standing up, swiping the other empty cup and gently pushing Galo’s ever-so-effervescent self aside. No, he wasn’t biting. In fact, he’d finished his breakfast. Imagine that, _one_ of them actually managed to accomplish something! Lio downed the rest of his coffee, tossing both empties aside with a little flourish (once he’d found the bin; not knowing the layout was still just as troubling).

“Was there anything else you needed to tell me?” Lio asked. Not to be ungrateful for the distraction, but he’d enough. They’d enough. Although, their return to the deep, treacherous ache of past events wasn’t any more appealing–they hadn’t even been away for long. It was evident in weight shifting across Galo’s shoulders, in the broken half of a response he’d calmly interrupted. On any other given day, Lio suspected, they could have bantered like this for hours. In another place, perhaps another time, Lio would have listened with more enthusiasm.

“Ehh, I _guess_ not…” So much for a new plan. “Goin’ back already? Hate to see ya leave, but–“ It didn’t take a genius to understand why, extending her arm in passing to collect one cute, scampering rodent. Vinny would just have to keep her company instead, and better out here than stuck in the quasi-productive funk Lio was shoving himself back into. That was for sure. Poor Galo, though, deflated like a four day-old balloon animal, albeit livened–if only a bit–by the curious case of Lio’s digits clasped around his bad wrist. ~~Lio had such small hands…~~

“Sorry, Lucia, duty calls.” Galo feigned a salute, obediently falling in step with the persevering will that held him captive. Galo had led them there on a whim; Lio led them back just the same. Guess that was fair, nearly missing Lucia’s final remark as it echoed down the hall, _‘Just try to return him in one piece!’_

A break in self-restraint, Lio’s thumb traced over the gnarly abrasions clawing their way down Galo’s wrist as they reentered the office. An apology, maybe. A thought, and he’d been right before. Galo didn’t mind. Their return had been swift and to the point; yet, Galo was focused on the subtle contact the whole way there. Firm, but easily broken out of. He’d chosen not to. He wasn’t so proud. Rather, Galo again chose not to, catching Lio’s graceful detachment before he’d taken more than a few steps–perhaps to reclaim his lordship over the desk? Yet, words… words? Lio waited expectantly.

_Words._ Galo found them.

“Y’know, I may not be a smart man, but something tells me we need to talk,” Galo said. Awkwardly. Sincerely. There was no better way to bring it up. “I know you can. You’ve given me a pretty good kick in the head before…”

His tone shifted, quieter. “Are you okay? Be honest.”

Never mind that he wasn’t fairing any better, but communication was key. Somewhere there’d been a breakdown, a barrier. Galo tried, honest! Honestly, he wanted to respect Lio’s space–to whatever length was necessary–but sometimes the worry was too much, brow creasing with more than just the anxiety of having to deal with paperwork or being stuck inside. Of Kray, the Burnish, or the future. If Lio were just a little closer, a little more comfortable, then he’d have been grappled into the warmest, most sincerest hug he’d ever had. Yet, it wasn’t to be.

“I could ask you the same… I don’t like being here.” Restless, deflated, and so many more adjectives. Hopeful, sometimes, but this wasn’t fun. They both knew that, and their inner demons were what shaped them differently. Still, Lio found his hand resting on Galo’s arm the moment his face fell. Don’t get ahead of him. “–but I like being with you, around you. I enjoy your company, Galo Thymos.”

_Don’t hug him, either._ Not right now. Not here. Although they were alone in this room, he–Lio was still processing and sore and many, many other things that all piled onto him at once. Yet, restraint buckling further, he followed the red outline down Galo’s bicep, amazed by how much this giant of a fool let him get away with. This wasn’t normal. Galo wasn’t normal. Their entire situation wasn’t normal. His hand stopped its humerus conquest while he finished his thought, “That is why I came back, and why I’ll be fine. We still have work to do.”

Frankly, Galo had never wanted to embrace anyone more in his life, albeit he was doomed eternally to covet this desire. For now. It burned–to be so close and yet so far–ruffling through his mohawk with all the pent up frustration of someone trying _really hard_ to control himself–to not be the golden retriever so many accused him of. Lio was here. Lio liked him. He said it! He actually, really said it! Perhaps not quite an answer to what he’d asked, but it was a sweet gesture. A compromise he was willing to take for lack of an intelligent reply.

“Okay.” Right. Him talk good.

“You better mean that–the _fine_ thing. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to find out later that you _weren’t_ and there’s something I could’ve done about it.” Somewhere between a threat and acceptance, Galo slipped from from Lio’s cartographic hold on his arm–was Lio really that fascinated with his scars? They weren’t that special… or important right now. Just add it to the jumble of observations Galo didn’t have words for. There were other things, pressing things. So, he took his chair with a sigh. There was something he needed to say before he forgot to say it entirely, fixated on Lio while he reclaimed dominion over Galo’s desk.

“–and if you like me, then I like you more,” Galo decided, tearing himself away from Lio’s reaction to gaze forlornly at the paperwork left exactly as it had been. A mess. Rifling through it, the result was a rather underwhelming stack despite the level of disarray, offered tentatively to his partner. It was everything he’d written so far. All by hand, and handed out with the confidence of someone whose legibility _hadn’t_ stagnated in middle school. Yet, Lio accepted the parcel, mouth twitching to one side at the prominently _bureaucratic_ layout of the first few pages. Incident reports on top of a full written record of the past… while, it seemed like.

“So, I wanted you to read this… I want to get it right.” Galo looked at the half-written page in front of him. Still a ways to go. Still too much to deal with, but Lio was right. As usual. They had a lot of work to do, and procrastinating wasn’t helping anyone, no matter how unpleasant the task at hand. No matter how his heart sunk when he thought about the things he needed to admit on paper, to himself, and the higher authority. To Lio, too, probably. “–and I know you’re not afraid to tell me I’m wrong. So, go ahead, red pen’s in the drawer.”

So, once more their day started, just as unending as ever before, from the moment Lio cradled the pen between his fingers, invested in the solidarity of written word. There were so many hours left to be spent poring over red ink and questions. Answers. Redactions and revisions. Yet, for every sour recollection, for all of the pain and suffering–of himself, of his people, of _Galo_ –Lio found some inexplicable solace in Galo’s wobbly handwriting. He remembered something better, something more distant than a memory, fleeting and hard to hold; he chased it across the pages. Every now and then, it sent his mind adrift somewhere closer, yet somehow even further away.

Gueira, Meis. Their keeper for the day. No doubt they had their own fair share of hardships…

_Boys, we need to talk._ Aina–far from their sullen office-work, smudged with dirt, smoke, and sweat–herded her two-man flock behind the cover of a conveniently-parked firetruck. She regarded them, glowering with a long day’s worth of pent-up disapproval and frustration. A hand settled on her hip midst an assessment of how much _tact_ she had left for the two of them. Yet, they weren’t bothered in the slightest, a hint of a smirk here, an incredulous head shake there. The only thing missing was their snickering, replaced instead by the knowing leer of _something_ about to go down.

“What, too afraid to face us in the open, little miss Aina? Gotta hide? Tch, like that’ll help.” Gueira heckled, arms crossed. Ready. Her frustration hadn’t gone unnoticed, and he was reactive as ever. Was this it? Had they finally broken the facade? Not for meaning to, rest assured, but even if they… she was too nice. That’s all there was to say. Too nice, too soon, and no amount of tolerating or playful banter covered that up entirely.

So, composure. A difficult word. A difficult number of boys, both watching her struggle to maintain what little calm was left. Aina touched her forehead, dug through her hair, and sighed in quick succession. She could do this. Her hand dropped to her side in the best semblance of put-togetherness she had available, forcing evenness into her tone whether it wanted to be there or not. This wasn’t about scolding. This wasn’t about– “No, _I just_ –I respect you, and I respect your position as Burnish. As _people._ I’m sorry. I know what it looks like, but that’s exactly why I pulled you aside. I’m not your superior or your boss or even like _close_ to you.”

Breathe. Her words ran together. They listened, for what it was worth, leaned against the big, red truck–sharing concern and sidelong glances. _She was serious._ Rambling and, shit, it looked like Aina was about ready to yell, or cry, or maybe even give them both a good what-for. Yet, she was serious, staring down–up?–two of the most infamous people from the past thirty years. They’d give her credit where it was due, considering their approach to this… this seriousness as each word rammed into the next with little pause for input or breath. “I don’t want anyone to think it’s acceptable to chew you out, because that’s not what I’m–I don’t have that authority. The only one who does is Lio.”

Meis raised a palm conversationally. It was all he could get in edgewise. _Fair point._ _Continue,_ it said. Let it out. They were your audience. Although, from the look of it, it wasn’t like she was waiting for their permission. Her words, as crumpled and messy as they were, kept coming. Kept making some sort of sense, Meis supposed. Yet, none of it made enough sense to make her a liar. Hm, what were they going to do with that, then?

“And I like you,” Aina reminded firmly, forcing away a frown. None of that here. This was business just as much as it was personal. She had to be strong. She was strong. “I do, but this has to stop. I know how difficult and _weird_ and–I know you don’t have any reason to trust me…”

“Fuck, just spit it out,” Gueira finally spoke up. All of this song and dance, and for what? Nice to hear that she respected them, but that made..? What did that mean if it wasn’t a lie? Maybe–Gueira’s arms uncrossed–it meant that Aina wasn’t that bad, really, but there was still only so much blabbing Gueira could stand. He’d even let her have the title of Most Tolerable Firefighter (so far), but this was bordering on obnoxious. Irritating. He’d wager Meis agreed with him, too, although the lankier Burnish stayed in his quiet, little thought bubble. Ah, let’m. “Call us assholes.”

“What? No.” Firm, almost offended. “I mean, _yes,_ but no. You’ve been laughing at my expense all day, and I get it? Silly, privileged little Aina doesn’t know a damn thing.” Another pass through her hair, tugging out the lopsided ponytail. Their day was nearly over, so it didn’t matter anymore. Keeping up appearances wasn’t so important to the pair of rowdy punks in front of her, smoothing out the kink the crown-shaped band left behind. She paused, searching their expressions.

“But I never asked to be ignorant, and I’m not too proud to admit that there’s a lot I don’t know–or how much of what I’ve been told are probably _lies._ ” Aina steeled herself, collecting, straightening, confident. No matter what, she wasn’t backing down. She couldn’t. There was too much riding on this, even if, maybe, her determination was heavily ruled by the simple, petty desire to be friends. Wasn’t that enough, though? Self-betterment aside. “So, if this is going to work, you two need to stop laughing and start _explaining_ , because I can’t get better if no one helps me.”

Finally, a chance to speak. Meis’ one-eyed gaze flickered to Gueira first. No? No backtalk? Alright, then it was his turn to straighten and collect himself, pushing away from he and Gueira’s shared leaning post. Serious talking called for serious posturing, and y’know… Meis shook his head, hair briefly drifting from his face. A glimpse. She’d said so much, yet he had so little to return with. Hopefully, it was enough. Hopefully, she’d understand just how much gravity a few, simple words held. “Nah… you’re right.”

Well, It caught Aina off-guard, anyway, steely resolve melting from her face, her shoulders, and into pool of _nothing_ at her feet. Although, was she really any more exposed than she’d been before? Aina wasn’t very good at hiding her true self, looking on with relief, guilt, and, _most of all_ , tiredness. Yet, underneath it all, at the very core of her being, a single spark of happiness–contentment–kept her going. A few words they might have been, sure, but she wasn’t letting them go.

“No excuses.” That meant you, Gueira. “Sorry. We’ll do better, ‘cause you’re sure stuck with us…”


End file.
